Tallas (The Tallas Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  Another voice added into the mix. “Paniess, what are you doing here?” Her eyes cut to a familiar figure.

  “What are you doing here, Doctor Riggley?” She volleyed the question and looked from the frail Goshen to Rooney Riggley sitting at a tiny table. Rooney’s heavily lashed eyelid’s narrowed staring her down. She hated feeling intimidated by such an attractive man. The last person to make her stomach feel like infringing butterflies had been Doogan McTullan. The candle’s light accentuated Rooney’s strong chin, chiseled bone structure and russet hair, darker in the dimness, swept nicely over his ears.

  “Rooney, calm down.” Goshen fanned an arthritic hand. “We’re all on the same side.”

  “Pomfrey’s daughter?” Rooney’s voice raised an octave. His brows collected and the flickering light made the good doctor appear almost sinister with flinty eyes.

  “Yes,” Goshen said. “She’s been helping Fulvio for years. No one knows, except me and now you.” He pointed a crooked finger at Rooney. “Keep this to yourself, boy.”

  ***

  Rooney couldn’t help but grin at the old codger. He loved him like a father or more so like a grandfather. “My lips are sealed.” He looked at Paniess standing transfixed in the middle of the room. “Take a seat.” He gestured to a rickety chair, which might or might not support her.

  With an air of grace, the tall and gorgeous Paniess settled on the chair like it was a royal throne. He never would’ve suspected the conceited and self-absorbed daughter of Pomfrey Addler to be in cahoots with Fulvio and Goshen. The light accented her prominent cheekbones and fine features, and tonight she’d left her lips clear of her normal slathering of cherry lipstick, making her appear young and innocent. “I was just filling in Quigley about the Larksen boy,” Rooney said. “He died today.”

  “No—” Paniess dipped her head into the palm of her hand, distraught. “He was Fabal’s age, right?”

  “He was Fabal’s best friend.” He nodded and added a nasally inhale. “He’ll be devastated when he finds out.”

  “This has to stop.” Goshen tapped his fingers on the table. “We need to get back to the way things were before—”

  “Before my father turned into a pompous, overbearing tyrant?” Paniess interjected. “He has the Elites, Zent and Cletus, fixated on his twisted version of perfection. They’ll help him create a civilization without defects.”

  “It’s more than that.” Rooney glided his finger through the candles flame. “The supposedly free Tallas has turned into a hellhole. Management is no better than the government before the final days. Condemning young Tanner Larksen to the whip for stealing a chicken was barbaric.”

  “Hmph. My father’s brutal approach of teaching citizens.” Paniess folded her arms over the table’s surface. “But it only makes them hate and fear him more. And I think he’s good with that.”

  “The food rationing system is pathetic.” Rooney continued to speak though seemingly mesmerized by the candle. “People are starving. And Cletus still won’t allow us to hunt beyond the borders. They never did catch Doogan and Fulvio hunting beyond the perimeters and we’ve all filled our bellies with their meat. It doesn’t make sense. Citizens can’t survive outside the gates and we’re having a hard time surviving inside the gates.”

  “C’mon, Rooney,” Goshen’s tone turned severe, “you know why? Contaminated meat was causing birth defects.”

  “I haven’t run across a birth defect in over a year,” Rooney said, balling his fingers.

  “That’s ‘cause women were birthing babies at home, most of ‘em die. And the others that live, well, Pomfrey gives ‘em a choice. Either—” Goshen’s rheumy eyes zipped to Paniess. Her complexion wan in the light and her eyelids compressed, chewing on her lips. “Bad topic.”

  Rooney cupped his hands on top of the table, leaning forward. “At least Zent is relenting on the one child ruling.”

  “Um...I think he’s planning on rescinding that decree.” The flickering candle shadowed Paniess face. “Due to the bug infested crops being harvested this year.”

  “Okay, kids.” Goshen’s hand came up to block a yawn. “I’m ancient ‘n darn tired, and getting woken in the wee hours of the morn ain’t helping my health none. I know why you’re both here.” His eyes of wisdom surfed over them. “You want to know if I’ve had any word from Fulvio and Doogan, right?”

  Paniess’s mouth moved, however, Rooney beat her to the punch. “Have you?”